


Infernal Music

by Gelid_illuminant



Series: Songs and Stuff [2]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Nonsense
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-13
Updated: 2020-01-13
Packaged: 2021-02-19 05:40:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22239445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gelid_illuminant/pseuds/Gelid_illuminant
Summary: In which Crowley sings and Aziraphale is rather bold.A sequel to Celestial Songs
Relationships: Aziraphale and Crowley, Aziraphale/Crowley
Series: Songs and Stuff [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1600831
Kudos: 10





	Infernal Music

_“Early this morning_

_When you knocked upon my door_

_Early this morning, ooh_

_When you knocked upon my door_

_And I said ‘hello Satan,_

_I believe it’s time to go’”_

It was too early in the morning for this. Aziraphale rolled over and pulled the pillow over his head. _Wait._ Crowley was _singing_!? Aziraphale sat bolt upright. Crowley was in the bath, singing at the top of his voice. What had brought this on?

_“It could be a spoonful of coffee_

_It could be a spoonful of tea_

_But one little spoonful of your precious love_

_Is good enough for me.”_

Was he singing for the same reason Aziraphale had been singing? Because he was…in love? Because they’d shared a bed last night? And since when did Crowley take baths? It wasn’t as if they’d engaged in any activity that would require a bath afterwards. Or was this a usual thing for Crowley to do? Aziraphale didn’t know. Now he had the opportunity to find out. Maybe they could move in together. Or was it too early for that? Their relationship had lasted for six thousand years, but had only just become, _oh_ , romantic, in the last twenty-four hours. Aziraphale thought back to the previous night. Crowley had said _the words._ That he loved Aziraphale. As he thought about this, Aziraphale got up and went to make breakfast.

_“He caught the Katy_

_Left me a mule to ride_

_He caught the Katy_

_Left me a mule to ride_

_Now my angel caught the Katy_

_Left me a mule to ride_

_The train pulled out_

_I swung on behind_

_Crazy ‘bout him_

_That hard-headed angel of mine!”_

Aziraphale chuckled softly as he whisked pancake batter. Even he knew those weren’t the _proper_ words. Crowley was changing them to fit Aziraphale. The song was probably about some woman. Now, what a _‘katy’_ was he had no idea. He poured a little oil into the pan, and it sizzled satisfyingly. Just as the first pancake was ready, Crowley came out, smelling of Aziraphale’s soap. It was gratifying. He wrapped his arms around Aziraphale’s waist and rested his chin on his shoulder. He was still singing.

_“If I had possession over judgement day_

_If I had possession over judgement day_

_Lord, the women I’m lovin’ would have no right to pray.”_

“Whatever does that mean, dear?” Aziraphale asked, pouring in more batter. Crowley shrugged. “I dunno, but it’s a damn good song. Making some for me?”  
“Of course, love.”

“Neato.” Crowley settled at the table, draped over the chair like an especially attractive piece of cloth. “I thought we could go for a little walk today, huh? Maybe we could go to Hyde Park for a change.” He tapped his foot on the floor, humming. Aziraphale grinned as he dished up pancakes. He searched in the cupboard for maple syrup. He’d discovered maple syrup on a mission to Canada some decades previous. “In a good mood, dearest?” He asked, laughing. Crowley laughed back. Aziraphale continued, “I’d love to go for a walk with you, dear. Hyde Park sounds delightful.”

**

They walked through the park, hand-in-hand. The day was clement; birds sang in the trees, children played on the grass. Aziraphale felt a warm glow of joy within his being. Here, with Crowley, he was content. He was truly happy, for the first time in his long life. The feel of their hands touching, the scent of Crowley’s after-shave, the sound of his singing.

_“I can tell the wind is risin’_

_The leaves tremblin’ on the tree_

_Tremblin’ on the tree_

_I can tell the wind is risin’_

_Leaves trembling on the tree_

_All I need is my sweet little angel_

_To keep me company_

_Hey, hey, hey, hey, my company.”_

They settled on a bench and watched the world go by. Gentle exchanges passed between them, soft kisses, loving glances, the stroking back of an errant hair. Crowley was tapping his foot, still caught up in the music in his mind, with a smile upon his face. He slung his arm around Aziraphale’s shoulders and drew him closer. “I’ve dreamt of this,” Crowley said quietly. “Of being with you. I’ve dreamt of it for…well, millennia.” It was a secret he thought he’d never share. Aziraphale had the good grace to smile sadly. “You’ve waited a long time, my dear. As have I. It took me quite awhile to realise how I feel about you, and then it took me awhile to come to terms with it. I’m so glad that I did. I can only apologise for it taking as long as it did.” He leaned in against Crowley’s chest.

Crowley placed a kiss atop Aziraphale’s head, and used one hand to play with his hair. “It was worth the wait.” He whispered. Aziraphale shivered happily. “We get to be together now. After nursing this…this love, for so long, we get to share it between us. We can go through this life as a pair, as partners, sharing our experiences. Important decisions, we make together, we take each other’s needs into account. I think it’s beautiful.” He closed his eyes in bliss. Crowley chuckled, deep in his chest. “You old sop.”

“I mean it, Crowley. From now on, when I make choices in my life, I think of your needs as well as my own.” Aziraphale sat back to look at Crowley, his gaze serious. Crowley grinned. “I said you’re being soppy, I didn’t say I didn’t agree.”

**

After sitting there in the park for awhile, they went home in the Bentley, listening to Queen. They stopped at a bakery to pick up some croissants. Once back at the little apartment above the bookshop, Aziraphale put chocolate and hazelnut spread on a croissant and warmed it up with a quick miracle. As he ate, Crowley settled himself on a couch and started to sing again.

_“Hot tamales and they’re red hot_

_Yes he got ‘em for sale_

_Hot tamales and they’re red hot_

_Yes, now, he got ‘em for sale_

_You know the monkey, now the baboon_

_Playin’ in the grass_

_Well the monkey stuck his finger in that old Good Gulf Gas, now_

_Hot tamales and they’re red hot, yes he got ‘em for sale, I mean_

_Yes he got ‘em for sale, yeah.”_

Aziraphale was no fool. He knew what this song was about. He eyed Crowley carefully, considering it. By singing this song, was Crowley indicating that he wanted to move their relationship towards a more… _physical_ realm? Or was he just singing a song that he liked? Aziraphale considered what _he_ wanted for a moment. He’d never thought about this topic much before, never needed to. But with Crowley, it was different. With Crowley…he wanted to be totally known by him, totally seen. Could they do that without resorting to…well, _congress?_ Aziraphale figured that they could, but that it wouldn’t hurt to do it anyway. So, once he finished his croissant, he left the room to perform the Effort.

He returned to the sitting room, feeling a bit embarrassed. Okay, a _lot_ embarrassed. Crowley was still sitting there on the couch, as though nothing monumental had happened. Aziraphale supposed nothing monumental _had_ happened. It was perfectly okay. He was doing nothing wrong, nothing bizarre. He sat down on the couch beside Crowley and reached out to take his hand. He drew it to his lips and gently kissed his knuckles, maintaining eye contact with Crowley the whole time. He smiled in a way he hoped was suggestive, but he really couldn’t be sure that it had worked. Crowley gave a lopsided smile, seeming curious. “What’s on your mind, angel?”

“Oh, nothing much, nothing much. I am simply admiring the view.”

Moments later, Aziraphale had crossed the distance and was holding Crowley’s face in his hands. Then they were kissing, deeply. Deeper still. Crowley’s hands came up and dug eagerly into Aziraphale’s hair. It was all so warm, and then hot. Aziraphale had to break away, his lips numb, his breath coming in rapid little huffs. How could he put this, exactly? What was the done thing? “I made the Effort, Crowley. Do you…I mean, do you…approve?”

“I damn well do approve, angel!” Crowley exclaimed, his big gold eyes lighting up. “I’ll go ahead and do it to, and then we can get down to business!”

**

An hour later, they were curled up in the sheets, sweaty and gasping and glowing. Crowley had his head on Aziraphale’s chest, his arms around his middle. He couldn’t help it, he fell into a habit older than time and began to sing once more.

_“I’ve got a sweet little angel_

_I love the way he spreads his wings, oh yeah_

_I’ve got a sweet little angel_

_And I love the way he spreads his wings_

_And when he wraps his arms around me_

_He bring me joy and everything.”_

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry she's so short. This is basically just an excuse to make Crowley sing Robert Johnson songs not gonna lie. Even if no one reads/likes this, I'm satisfied.
> 
> Me and the Devil Blues - Robert Johnson  
> Spoonful - Howlin' Wolf  
> She Caught the Katy - Taj Mahal and James Rachell (slightly altered by me)  
> If I Had Possession Over Judgement Day - Robert Johnson  
> Hellhound on my Trail - Robert Johnson  
> They're Red Hot - Robert Johnson  
> Sweet Little Angel - B.B. King


End file.
